


Love Control

by autoschediastic



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Breathplay, Collars, Dom/sub, M/M, Post-Advent Children (Compilation of FFVII), Topping from the Bottom, playfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoschediastic/pseuds/autoschediastic
Summary: Rufus's hand snaps up, clamps firmly around Reno's fingers. "Interesting interpretation of your orders," he says, still focused on whatever it is in that report that's got him miffed."Not really an order." Mouth spreading in a wide grin, Reno gives tugging his hand free a half-hearted go, actually kind of delighted when Rufus's grip just tightens. Playful isn't exactly one of the boss's default moods, but they've been at this long enough he can recognize a bit of willing indulgence when he sees it.Rufus wouldn't like to hear it, but he's got a lot of tells and a hell of a lot more room between prickly and pissed than he thinks.
Relationships: Reno/Rufus Shinra
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	Love Control

* * *

"But I can't! I just can't!" she shrieks, shattering the cool silence. Distant music plays in soft counterpoint as she grows more and more frantic, her eyes flashing wildly in the dark as she searches endless blank corridors at a stumbling run. 

A slash of harsh light cuts across the floor. She collapses against a wall when she spots it, suddenly afraid she’s found what she’s been looking for all this time. In the crack between the half-open door and the frame, a dark shadow flickers. 

She creeps forward, reaching out with a trembling hand. The light illuminates the toes of her blood spattered shoes, sparking inset jewels to glittering life as the door swings wide—

_To be continued._

Reno huffs a breath through his nose. 

The whole thing is a low-budget, overdramatic and watered down _LOVELESS_ knock-off, and he’s pretty sure he knows exactly who’s waiting for her behind that door. But not for sure. The scrolling end credits advise him to tune in next time. 

He flops onto his back in a disgruntled sprawl, arm thrown across his eyes. With the A/C cranked cold as Shiva's cunt, the couch is an island of warmth bathed in the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, perfect for an afternoon nap. Junon is the Public Security Division's turf, half a platoon of Regulars stationed in and around the former hotel to handle the President's safety, so there's no real reason he can't. He's hitched to Rufus's coattails in more of an officially unofficial capacity, anyway. 

Tseng’s a real professional like that. He trusts Heidegger’s replacement about as much as he trusts a Wall Market hooker with information to sell, but no one will ever hear him say it. He just does what he figures needs doing, and everybody else is wise enough to keep their mouths shut when a Turk shows up.

Today's even supposed to be his day off after a week and a half escorting Rufus south to the Mideel field research centre, and fuck knows he could use the sleep. He doesn’t care what anybody tells him about the Lifestream being a benevolent manifestation of the planet’s loving will, he’ll never be able to rest easy with a great big fuck-off glowing lake of it fifteen feet from his head. 

Goosebumps spring up all along his arms despite the sunbeam's warmth. Restless and shivering, he swings his legs off the couch, bare toes curling in the carpet's plush pile. The Presidential Suite is the same as it always is, sharp-angled furniture and too much white space. Heaving himself up, he grabs a beer from the fridge, popping the top on the counter since nobody's around to yell at him for it. 

Neat stacks of plain white dishes take up most of the cupboard space. He digs up a single canister of loose-leaf tea and gives it a sniff. Herby and vaguely floral, it smells like something Rufus would drink. 

He leans back against the counter to enjoy his beer while waiting for the tea to steep. His gaze lands on the far gallery wall, artful and boring like everything else in this place with monochrome landscapes arranged in clusters of washed-out colour. Smack in the middle of it sits a greyscale tryptic of old Midgar at its finest, Sector 0 ablaze with light and the Shinra Building as it used to be framed by dark clouds and the reactors’ glow. 

It's the only holdover from before left hanging, and he's honestly surprised Rufus hasn't replaced it with something a little less sentimental. 

Junon's a lot like that, though. The streets are the same as they always were, populated by Shinra employees and army grunts, and strung with banners from Rufus's New Age campaign, sun-faded and tattered but still in place because no one gave the order for them to come down. The old Sister Ray platform hasn't been dismantled yet, not when funneling food and medicine through the port to truck north is more important than adding to the surplus of building materials. 

Reno takes a long pull on his beer, holding it on his tongue. It's a new age, alright, but not the one anybody expected with the generators shut down one by one and the grid converted to alternative, less-stable power sources. Even the slums always had power, back when Midgar wasn't just a whole twisting ruin of them. 

Now they've got diehards screaming for immediate shut-downs, fuck the poor saps hooked up to machines that need reliable power to survive, ready to throw down with the old guard desperate to maintain the status quo. 

They're all nuts as far as Reno's concerned, not that anybody's bothered to ask his opinion. 

Dumping the tea into a thick porcelain mug, he leaves his empty on the counter and heads down the hall. This heavy feeling in the air that's been making Reno itch since he hopped out of the chopper isn't anything like nostalgia even if it's got this strange sort of wistfulness to it. Everything's exactly the same and nothing like it used to be. 

Junon's as full and bustling as it ever was, but it feels just like the Saucer gone dark, empty and forlorn and eerie as an old church at midnight. 

He pauses at the threshold, shoulder hitched against the door frame. For once, the schedule is clear; no meetings, no interviews, no public appearances. Rufus is all dolled up in one of his snazzy white suits anyway, his only concession to the day skipping out on a perfectly-knotted tie.

Tidy piles of paper line the top edge of the desk. A good half of it is divisional budgets, dishwater dull, while the rest is a mix of site reports, intel, and a couple of contracts up for renewal, which Reno only knows because Rufus asked him to sort it the night before. He bitched about not being Rufus's secretary for a minute or two, then happily helped himself to the juicy bits in Tseng's executive summary. 

Rufus carries on reading, his lowered gaze framed by the sweep of dark eyelashes. His mouth is soft, set in a vague frown of concentration as he adds a note to the pad of paper at his elbow already dark with his tiny, tight handwriting. 

Absently, Reno’s attention hooked on the shadow that falls over the pale hollow of Rufus's throat, he tries a small sip of tea. It tastes bitter and a little musty like the medicines found crammed into the back of fourth-generation village shops. 

Pen scratches against paper again as Rufus puts his signature on the approval of some project somewhere, and he says, "Reno."

"You gonna take a break, boss?" Reno asks, pushing off the wall. 

"I could," Rufus replies, thumbing through a folder. "I most likely won't."

Reno nudges some paper aside and sets the mug down on an empty coaster. "Brain's gonna leak out your ears."

Rufus makes a noncommittal noise, frowning again as he starts flipping back through a report littered with underlined phrases and question marks. "Thank you," he says, not looking up as he makes another note and draws an arrow to one further up the page. 

Circling around the desk, Reno picks up one of the dozen fidget gadgets scattered on top of a low bookshelf. Rufus doesn't really seem the type until he's got one in hand, turning it over slowly in nimble fingers with his gaze gone a million miles away. Fidgeting isn't the right word, either. He's too deliberate about it. 

"Is there something in particular you wanted?" Rufus asks, turning another page. 

Reno drops whatever he's fiddling with back on the shelf and drapes himself across the back of Rufus's chair. "Tseng says take care of the boss," he says, siding a casual hand into the open neck of Rufus's dress shirt. Soft skin is chill against the heat from the tea lingering on his. He works open one button, then another. "I take care of the boss."

Rufus's hand snaps up, clamps firmly around Reno's fingers. "Interesting interpretation of your orders," he says, still focused on whatever it is in that report that's got him miffed.

"Not really an order." Mouth spreading in a wide grin, Reno gives tugging his hand free a half-hearted go, actually kind of delighted when Rufus's grip just tightens. Playful isn't exactly one of the boss's default moods, but they've been at this long enough he can recognize a bit of willing indulgence when he sees it. 

Rufus wouldn't like to hear it, but he's got a lot of tells and a hell of a lot more room between prickly and pissed than he thinks. 

"More like a suggestion," Reno says, dropping his mouth close to graze the shell of Rufus's ear. He nuzzles aside a stray lock of hair and presses a few soft kisses to the warm skin beneath, lips parted to give a teasing hint of wet heat. "I've got a couple of those, too."

"You're making me regret the lack of rules between us, Reno," Rufus says, keeping his tone flat and even despite a small shiver. 

"Yeah?" Excitement twisting through his gut, Reno plucks quickly at Rufus's shirt, pushing it aside with his wrist so it hangs half-open. He slides his fingertips over to the dark hint of a nipple already a little tight from the rush of cooler air. A light flick turns it to a hard peak for him to play with. "Like what, don't touch the boss when he's working?"

If Reno were anybody else, he'd probably miss the slight catch in Rufus's breath. He'd probably definitely be worried by the way Rufus takes hold of his other wrist and yanks, jerking him forward so he's stretched out over the back of the chair with Rufus's shoulder dug sharply into his sternum. 

"Yes, like that," Rufus says, twisting to scrape his teeth against the hinge of Reno's jaw. "It's a miracle you manage to take orders at all."

"Whoa, hey," Reno laughs, "no need to get all nasty on my ass." He slides sideways, mostly to see if Rufus will let him get away with crawling straight into his lap. "Or at least give me a kiss first if you're gonna. Warm me up a bit."

He doesn't get far before Rufus's grip turns punishingly hard, locking him in place. Rufus's cheek slides against his, silken smooth with a fresh shave where Reno's rocking a five o'clock shadow because he's too damn lazy to do anything about it on a day off. He feels more than hears Rufus draw a slow breath, nosed up behind his ear where his hair is still a bit damp from this morning, and smells like Rufus's shampoo. 

"You like that?" Eager pleasure plays hopscotch up his spine as Rufus hums, turns a kiss to his throat into a hard-edged bite. Rufus's brand of possessiveness runs deep as a mako vein, same as his daddy, but where senior was a greedy, grasping fuck straight down the line, he's more than happy to spread the wealth around. At the end of the day, everybody knows he still owns it all anyway.

"Brewed you that tea, too," Reno says, angling for his mouth. "Special delivery. That's gotta be worth a kiss."

Rufus laughs quietly, his breath warm between them, lips brushing lips in a thrilling tease. "Do you think so?"

"Damn straight," Reno says in a shallow groan, the words barely out of his mouth and his tongue just touching Rufus's bottom lip when the pressure on his wrists vanishes and he's left kissing air. 

On a sheet of paper torn from the notepad, Rufus writes the numbers one to five in a neat column and slides it across the blotter. "Five reasons why you think you've earned a kiss," he says, tapping it once, "and we'll see if you have."

Rubbing the feeling back into his left wrist where the skin had pinched, Reno tilts his head and looks from the sheet of paper to the pen Rufus is holding out, nose already buried back in the reports. "I'm game," he says, and plucks up both. 

He paces a few steps away and back again, twirling the pen in his fingers. It doesn't take him long to come up with some truly inspired dirty talk and a couple of promises he really hopes he gets a chance to follow through on. He leans over the front of Rufus's desk, braced on his elbows, and presents the paper with a flourish. 

Rufus looks up, eyebrows raised. "Already?"

"Hey, I did good in school," Reno says, crossing his ankles and rocking his weight from side to side. "I gotta wait around for you to grade that, or can we skip straight to number three?"

Rufus shakes his head, frowning hard at Reno's messy scrawl. "This is unacceptable." He folds the paper in half, writes down the numbers again, and adds an asterisk at the bottom. "Do it properly this time, and give me an apology at the bottom."

Laughing loud, Reno reaches out to skim his thumb over Rufus's scowling lips. Rufus even lets him, expression unchanging as he slides the pen between his mouth and Reno's hand, uses it to push Reno's hand firmly away. He holds the pen out expectantly. 

"You're shittin' me," Reno says, taking the pen and straightening slowly up. He scratches at the back of his neck, gaze jumping from the pen to Rufus's face and back again. "You're not shittin' me."

"I believe my instructions were clear."

"Alright. Okay." Clear instructions, sure, but the intent’s a little murky. Still, he shrugs, grabbing the paper and dropping into the chair set at an angle to the desk, supposedly for the rare visitor allowed up to the top floor except Reno hasn't seen anybody's ass parked in it except his and Tseng's.

Staring at the blank page, he taps the pen against the tip of his nose. He really figured Rufus was looking for something sexy, especially since he seemed to be in a pretty good mood. Not that he looks like he's actually angry now. Disappointed, maybe. He wants Reno to take this seriously.

Five real reasons he deserves a kiss. 

Jamming the pen between his teeth, he slumps further down in the chair and tries to get a feel for what Rufus might agree with. _'Fixed you breakfast'_ and _'stayed out of your hair since this morning'_ are probably middle ground, worth at least a few points each. Might be a stretch to put _'brought you tea'_ as number three, mostly because he doesn't have a clue what standard of deserving he should be aiming for, but bringing somebody a drink just because is pretty considerate.

"That's a four-hundred gil pen you're chewing on," says Rufus mildly.

Reno pulls it out of his mouth to size it up. "Huh. Thought it tasted cheap." 

The flicker of Rufus's smile sparks something warm in the pit of his gut. He quickly adds _'thinking hard enough to fill out these answers'_ for number four. Only one more and an apology to go. 

He drops his head back, knee bouncing. _'Damn good at my job'_ is reason enough for him, but he's not so sure Rufus will accept something he's already paid to do as a reason to hand out side bonuses. Stumped, he skips down to the asterisk. 

_'I'm sorry I didn't behave'_ he writes, then scratches in a _'very'_ above the _'sorry'_. Now it looks like he's trying to be a smartass. He tries underlining it. 

"Eh," he mutters, "fuck it," and goes back to gnawing on Rufus's pen. What he's got so far isn't half bad, nice and simple and straightforward. All things Rufus appreciates, sure, but never something Rufus _is_. There's always an angle, a loophole, some catch-22 waiting in the wings. 

Adrenaline spikes. He scribbles down _'I might not deserve it, but I want one anyway'_ and pops up out of the chair.

Rufus holds up a finger, signalling him to wait. He turns in a tight circle, drumming his fingertips on his thigh, so fucking proud he could burst. When Rufus takes the paper, sitting back with nothing showing on his face, Reno just might.

A sharp buzz of apprehension nails Reno square on as Rufus silently sets the paper down. He watches Rufus stand, brace a hand on the desk to reach across it and place two fingers under the point of his chin. He lifts it automatically, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Yeah?" he asks. 

Rufus gives him one of those sly, self-satisfied smiles, the kind of smile Reno might slide Rude's way when they both know something a mark doesn't. If he's Rude right now or the mark, he's got no fucking idea. 

And he still isn't too sure about it when Rufus guides him in, a soft brush of lips before the dry press of their mouths together, a warm breath that makes his lips tingle when Rufus's part and the slight pressure on his chin that urges him to tilt his face one way, then the other, touch and separate, touch again, until his lungs are tight and his head is spinning. He's not even sure he's still breathing when Rufus's tongue slides along his bottom lip and fucking finally pushes into his mouth, too brief and not enough.

"Thank you," Rufus says, his touch lingering as he pulls away, takes his seat again. "You're forgiven."

Bent halfway over the desk and hovering there, Reno blinks his eyes open. His entire mouth feels hot and tingling, tongue thick. "Wow," he says, rubbing a hand over his mouth and down his throat. He eases back, giving his head a shake and blinking again slowly. "What's a guy gotta do to get some more of that?"

"Five hundred words in ten point font," Rufus says immediately, raising his voice over Reno's sputtering, "double spaced with-- I'm kidding, Reno." He leans to the side, elbow propped on the desk and cheek braced against the curl of his knuckles. Genuine humour shines in his eyes. "Let's play a game, shall we?"

"Thought we already were," Reno grumbles. "Gave me a fucking heart attack."

"That was…." Rufus waves a hand. "Call it a measure of interest. If you'd like to play, stand there, in front of the window."

A little exhibitionism never hurt anybody, but if Rufus is planning to shove him up against that glass, he'd like to know it first. "You gonna tell me what kinda game?"

"If you're truly interested to know, you'll see soon enough."

Reno rocks back on his heels. Put in the right light, there's not much he won't at least consider trying out, and Rufus knows it. He should've guessed the stunt with the list was meant to get him primed for something more. Whatever it is, Rufus didn't think he'd go for it with a straight out ask, and that makes him way more curious than it does cautious.

So he goes to stand where Rufus points, and folds his hands behind his back when Rufus tells him to.

"You don't like to disappoint me, do you, Reno?"

Reno slides him a sideways glance, mouth crooked up at one corner. "Ain't much in it for me if I do, is there?"

Laughing quietly, Rufus shakes his head. "No, I suppose not. What I want from you is simple. I want you to stand there, just as you are, and not move or speak unless I ask you to. Are you willing to do that for me?"

Doesn't sound all that different than another day at the office, as long as Rufus makes it worth the trouble. "Whatever gets you up in the morning, boss."

"Oh, it does," Rufus reassures, with just enough of a leer to get a snorting laugh of surprise out of him. "We'll begin now, unless you object."

Reno exaggerates pressing his lips together, drops his shoulders back, and waits. 

"Thank you," Rufus says, and turns back to the reports to pick up right where he left off. 

Suspicion narrows Reno's eyes. If this turns out to be some backhanded way of getting him to shut up, he's gonna be so pissed. And not because Rufus wants him to shut up, either. They’ve come far enough for him to know all he’s got to do is ask, say what he needs straight out, and Reno will give it to him. No bullshit. 

Rufus says, "You're doing well, but stop glaring at me," and slides a folder from one pile to another, flips his notepad to a fresh page. On Reno's indrawn breath, he adds, "I didn't ask you to speak."

Reno snaps his mouth shut with a loud, deliberate clack of teeth. He's not going to say he doesn't trust Rufus, because sure as shit he does, but sometimes the boss deserves to be on the receiving end of some well-intentioned skepticism. 

He'll give it three more minutes, and if this doesn't get interesting by then, game over. He's got plenty of tricks up his sleeve to get what he wants out of Rufus. 

With thirty seconds to go, Rufus closes a file and doesn't open another. Reno twines his fingers tightly together to keep from going up on his toes. His head's full of all kinds of ideas, and thanks to that kiss, he knows what's first on the list. 

But Rufus just sits there, legs crossed at the knee, and watches him stand there with nothing to do except look damn good doing it. With his shirt lazily buttoned, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, well-tailored suit pants and his feet bare, he's worth a good, long look. 

A real long, long look. 

Real long. 

Fuck it, if Rufus doesn't do something soon, he's not going to be responsible for the fallout. 

"I think you've earned another kiss," Rufus says, sending his pulse skyrocketing. 

He bites down on the inside of his lip and sucks a couple of deep breaths in through his nose, nostrils flaring. He finally gets why Rufus always has the A/C cranked--the sun's too strong for this smaller space, the windows like a magnifying glass and he's a bug caught in the glare. 

Tension sings up his arms, across the wings of his shoulder blades at the creak of leather. The thought of a kiss has him half hard already, and he just gets thicker as Rufus comes over to stand in front of him, hands slung easily in his pockets. 

"If you don't like the orders I give," Rufus says, "tell me I'm cruel and the game is over." He lifts a hand to smooth back the hair fallen over Reno's shoulder, tuck another lock behind his ear. "If you aren't sure you can carry out an order but you don't want to disappoint me, tell me I'm mean." Fingers curl lightly against Reno's neck. "You're permitted to speak out of turn on either of those occasions. Do you understand?"

Reno understands that his knees are going to give out any second and drop him face-fucking-first onto Rufus's cock. "Sure, boss," he croaks out, and clears his throat. "Understood."

"Excellent," Rufus says, combing his fingers gently through the hair at Reno's temple. His thumb strokes lightly under Reno's eye, just once. "Follow me."

The trip down the hall to the bedroom is a blur. Eventually they'll get to the fucking, because they always do, but in the meantime he's got this weird, eager edginess riding him hard. Mostly he figures he's just horny and curious, and bored enough by Junon that anything will make a welcome distraction. 

Compared to the brightness of Rufus's office, the bedroom is twilight soft. With the shades drawn and the bedding folded down and wrinkled from the night before, the air is close, thick like waking from a dead sleep. Reno shivers, rubbing his bare arms behind his back. 

Opening the closet, Rufus nods at the floor. "Kneel."

Reno drops smoothly to his knees and sits back on his heels. He's happy to go along if it means they're going to get to the good stuff sooner rather than later.

When Rufus touches him, though, it's to fix his posture. Shoulders straight, knees together, head bowed. He can't help another quick shiver at Rufus's quiet, "Beautiful."

Eyes on the carpet, Reno can only hear the sound of an opened drawer, vague rustling and an occasional clink. He's seen enough of Rufus's toy collection that he can't imagine what Rufus is looking for, way too many options flitting through his head when he doesn't have a good handle on Rufus's mood. It sure as hell doesn't read as playful now. 

"How old were you when you first had sex?" Rufus asks. 

"Dunno." It takes more effort than it should to keep his head down when Rufus steps close again. "Twelve, maybe thirteen."

Rufus folds the collar of Reno's shirt back and spreads it flat. Every brush of bare skin leaves something electric and alive in its wake. "Male or female? Keep your eyes down."

Staring at a fixed point when Rufus tilts his face up turns his vision blurry. Body-warmed leather slides against his throat and pulls tight, stopping his breath short. Rufus tucks a finger between his neck and the collar to test the fit and Reno forces the air stuck in his lungs to move. 

"Male or female?" Rufus prods.

"Uh, woman. Older than me."

His whole body pulls tight when Rufus cradles his face. He pushes into it on reflex, closing his eyes and pretending he can't hear Rufus's disapproving sigh. He's only sorry about it when Rufus steps back. "Stand up. Tell me something about her."

Carefully keeping his head down, Reno braces his knee on the floor and pushes up. "Great tits," he says, tracking the thin shadow on the carpet as Rufus circles around behind him. "Wouldn't let me lick her cunt."

Instead of firing off another question, Rufus reaches around to unbutton the rest of Reno's shirt. The silence stretches long, grows heavy as Rufus calmly and methodically strips Reno down, handing out brief commands to move his arm, lift his foot, and immediately after every one to resume his stance while Rufus meticulously folds his clothes on the valet. 

It's already cold as the northern crater in here, and it just gets colder when Rufus walks away. He bites at the inside of his cheek, eyebrows creeping into his hairline as he tries to figure out where the boss is gone off to by the sound of his footsteps. 

Silence, then a cottony rustle. He imagines Rufus settling back on the bed-- nah, too casual. Sitting on the edge of it instead, legs crossed at the knee again, gaze intent as he waits for Reno to start squirming. 

More silence. 

Reno flexes his hands, the muscles of his calves, presses his tongue solidly against the roof of his mouth. Anything to stay rooted to the spot. 

"And your first time with a man?" Rufus asks. 

Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, Reno shrugs. The heavy collar shifts. "Blow behind a joint near the Honeybee. Wasn't called that then, though. Wall wasn't even all the way up yet."

"Interesting," Rufus says, and Reno gets the feeling he's not talking about the history lesson. He fires off a bunch more questions, all of them personal and one or two a little freaky even for the boss. 

"The fancy shit?" Reno asks. He stretches his neck out, resettling the collar's weight again. "Lacy panties, garters, fishnets, that kind of lingerie?"

"That is the general understanding of the term, yes." Rufus sounds like he's smiling. 

Reno rolls his eyes and huffs a breath. Playing twenty questions, bedroom edition, would be a hell of a lot more fun if they were both over there on that bed. They've never talked about a lot of this stuff, and while Rufus is getting an eyeful of him, he's getting nothing. 

"Yeah, sure," Reno says, rolling his shoulders back. "I'd wear it. I got the legs for it."

"The ass, too," Rufus agrees, like he's got some goodies stashed away he's thinking about trotting out. "I'd like you to crawl to me, Reno."

"Fucking finally," Reno mutters. All he wants to do is haul ass over there and get the fuck going already. It's nothing but spite that makes him go down on one knee first, then the other, taking his sweet time about it. The collar is a weird pressure against the back of his skull when he looks up to see exactly where he's supposed to crawl to, easing off and digging in by turns with the sway of his body. By the time he makes it to the bed, sitting back on his heels again at Rufus's feet, his breathing's gone shallow.

"Eyes down," Rufus reminds, firm but soft. He makes a quiet sound of approval when Reno falls back into the pose from before the collar came out. "You're determined to prove me wrong, aren't you."

Reno grins. There's a reason he's so damn good at his job. Maybe the boss is due for a little reminder of his own. 

He waits, the picture of perfect, patient obedience, as Rufus gathers his hair back from his face. A thumb traces his lips and fingers curl under his jaw, stroke lazily down to the collar and up again. It's not exactly hard to sit and be petted, even if he gets a little more antsy every time the pressure against his throat changes. When Rufus goes from tracing his fingertips lightly along the collar's edges to his hand gripping the front of it, Reno makes his move.

There's a two-second delay between his hands sliding up Rufus's thighs and Rufus's finger hooked under the collar, pulling it up so the leather bites into his chin. "I didn't ask you to touch me."

Reno keeps his hands where they are and his head down, lip caught between his teeth. That's not a question, so he doesn't say anything. There's this slow, twisting thrill building up in his belly that turns sharp and immediate when the collar pulls harder at the side of his throat. He tries three times to swallow against the pressure, each attempt cranking it up another notch even though he knows Rufus is holding it steady. 

The collar drops like a lead weight. Rufus takes hold of his wrists, picks up his arms one after the other and pushes them out and down, pinned to the mattress on either side. "Apologize for being so forward."

"Sorry, boss," Reno chirps. 

The grip on his wrists tightens briefly. "Apologize for moving without permission, and promise not to do it again."

Rattling that lie off as easy as the first with the sound of a belt buckle coming undone loud in his ears, Reno waits a beat, adds, "Cross my heart, honest."

"Ask me for a kiss."

"Fuck," Reno says, bunching the duvet up in his fists. In a flash he's got half a dozen ideas how to do it but writes them all off just as fast. He's got a reputation for running his mouth, spouting off whatever shit that crosses his mind and fuck the consequences. But those people accusing him of never stopping to think are more guilty of that than he is. Not a single one of them has ever realized just how well-crafted that reputation is. 

"Please, boss, give me a kiss," Reno says, editing on the fly, "'cause I'm not sorry you're just too goddamn pretty for me."

He catches the telltale hitch of a smothered laugh, and he's grinning wide when a hand grabs him lightly by the throat, fingers and thumb digging in at the hinge of his jaw to lift his face. Rufus doesn't look one bit impressed, but Reno's not the only one with a reputation he made sure to earn. 

Rufus's kiss this time is nothing like the one back in the office. Hard and demanding, it's not giving Reno a kiss so much as it is taking one from him, prying his mouth open and squeezing his throat shut when he tries to get in on the action. Rufus drags him up to his knees, keeps him hanging there off-balance until his lungs start to burn. He manages to suck in a little sliver of air here, another there, but it's not enough. His breaths turn rasping, and Rufus is still kissing him. 

Doesn't stop kissing him until he's dizzy and croaking Rufus's name. 

Breathing heavily, Rufus whispers, "Thank you," against Reno's mouth. He eases away and lets Reno sink slowly back down, his touch gone light on the collar but just as impossible to ignore. "You may make yourself comfortable on the bed."

If Reno could see straight, he'd be up there in a blink. Instead he has to clamber to his feet and watch his balance as he climbs up, his pulse loud and unsteady, and his cock hanging heavy between his legs. He flops down on his back, arms thrown carelessly above his head, and concentrates on making sure his lungs are still working right. 

Watching closely, Rufus makes a low hum of consideration. The mattress dips as he stretches out alongside, attention shifting to the light and lazy drag of his hand up from the hollow of Reno's hip to the centre of his chest. Rufus pauses there, fingers splayed over the recovering beat of his heart. "Does the collar bother you?" he asks, and smiles at the sudden kick against Reno's ribs.

Reno wets his lips, says, "Nah, boss."

"You know that's not what I meant," Rufus says, slipping his hand behind Reno's neck and toying with the buckle. "Ask me to tighten it."

With his insides trembling, the best Reno can do is turn his head to make it easier. 

"Reno," Rufus warns, his breath spilling warm around the edges of the collar. "Ask me to tighten it."

Reno's spent his whole life asking for trouble. This is even the kind of trouble he likes best, and it should come to him easy as breathing, but that's not exactly happening right now, either. 

Rufus leans up on his elbow, his hand gone still on the buckle. "Fascinating. I never knew."

Any other time, Reno would shrug and smile slyly and say _Knew what?_ like the absolute shit he is, and Rufus would smile right back, push for an answer. With it laid out in front of him like this, he doesn't have to.

He pushes anyway, two fingers slid under the buckle to lift it away from Reno's skin, pull the leather snug. "How long did it take for you to wear them down on the dress code?"

"Eh," Reno says, focused on the brush of Rufus's hair soft against his chest and kisses that trace a meandering path along his ribs, "everybody knows I'm a lazy fucker, I just--" A shudder cuts straight through his voice, Rufus's mouth closed hot and tight over his nipple. The contrast pulls the other into a stiff, aching peak and the pain arrowing straight to his groin. He twists closer, the collar forgotten until Rufus's grip on it hauls him up short. 

"I want to push your legs back and fuck you," Rufus says, licking at his quivering belly. Nails scrape up his side, along the curve of his armpit as Rufus lays another slow, open-mouthed kiss to the dip beneath his ribs. Blue eyes flick upwards, catch and hold his gaze. 

Reno groans and drops his head back. Trying to lie still and keep breathing while Rufus touches him, tugging at the collar between slick tiny flicks of tongue to remind him it's still there is bad enough, he can't handle seeing Rufus watch him at the same time. 

Rufus rolls closer, his hand slipping from Reno's arm to curl on the bed near his collarbone. "Fuck you with my hands around your throat," he says, nudging his hips forward for Reno to feel how fucking hard he is at the thought, and that more than the collar shreds Reno's next breath to ribbons.

"No shit," Reno says, aiming for saucy and missing by a mile. He yelps at the quick, vicious pinch right below his armpit.

"That was for speaking out of turn. Do it again and you'll be punished similarly." 

Braced for it this time, Reno asks, "That an invitation?"

Instead of another pinch, he gets Rufus swinging a leg over his hips. He hisses at the rough drag of cotton, then quickly sucks all that air right back in again when Rufus lifts his head, deftly loosening the collar's buckle and refastening it tighter than before. Rufus watches his face intently, his smile small and dark, private.

"If you like," Rufus says eventually, leaning down to nudge their mouths together, a teasing catch and drag of damp lips. Fingertips glide over the stinging patch of heat on Reno's side. "As long as you fully understand the consequences."

This time it’s a pinch and twist, quick then lingering, and Reno’s breath whistles through his teeth. The heat between Rufus’s legs is incredible and he ruts up into it, feet slipping on the sheets, shoulders and head dug into the bed for leverage. His neck stretches taut beneath the collar. Beneath Rufus’s hand. 

“Stay,” Rufus orders, his touch gentle, his voice firm. “This ends immediately if you move so much as an inch out of place.”

Eyes flying open and chest heaving, Reno groans a curse garbled enough to skim by the no talking rule. He stares up at the monotonous white ceiling, resisting the urge to stretch out his suddenly burning thighs. Rufus sounds pretty busy, the soft hush of his clothes finally coming off and his bare feet slapping lightly against the bathroom tile. Reno could probably get away with a quick shift to ease the discomfort. 

“I wouldn’t,” Rufus advises, closer than Reno thought. The mattress dips but he stays out of sight.

Reno grunts.

Hands slide up the insides of Reno’s bent legs, push his thighs further apart. He can’t tell from the slow caress which way Rufus will and he waits for the touch of slick fingers at his hole, maybe the soft wet pressure of his tongue. If he lifted his head an inch, a fraction of one, he’d be able to see more than his own widespread knees.

“You’re really very good at this,” Rufus says, sounding vaguely distracted as if he’s talking to himself, mildly surprised by the revelation but sincere. “I have no doubt you’d let me do as I wish. I think you might even enjoy it.” 

Reno turns that over in his head, searching for a loophole he could maybe mouth off a bit through but more poking at the truth of it like a sore tooth with his tongue. 

“How do you manage to always know,” Rufus wonders aloud, “exactly how hard to work for what I want to give you that I’m left satisfied yet strangely wanting?

“Imagine,” Rufus goes on, Reno’s opportunity to speak up slipping away. Rufus kneels on the bed, his cock dragging hot against Reno’s belly as he crawls up and settles back into place straddling Reno’s hips. The hard muscles of his thighs flex as he rises up, takes Reno’s cock in hand. “Imagine how sweet each scrap of air would taste with the knowledge of how much I ache for you.”

Braced for the tease of Rufus’s hole rubbing slick against his cockhead, Reno isn’t ready for Rufus to sit right down on it in one long, slow push. Rufus’s breath comes fast and shallow as his ass presses against Reno’s hipbones and he rocks back and forth a few times, wedging Reno in deep. 

Reno twists his hands in the bedclothes and hopes to hell Rufus is too busy to notice. He can’t help shivering every time Rufus moves, can’t do anything to stop the shuddering twitch of his hips as Rufus’s head falls back, his mouth open on a low sound as he clenches down deliberately. 

When he lifts up, he’s so tight the pull on Reno’s cock is a borderline gritty drag. He squirts lube straight onto Reno’s dick without a care for the mess that drips onto the sheets and eases back down slowly, working himself loose so he can fuck in earnest. 

Reno grits his teeth and takes it. Rufus’s cock is curved up hard against his stomach, flushed dark and the head glistening. A softer red delicately stains his cheeks and spreads down his chest. He finds Reno’s hand with one of his own, clutching at the back of it and twisting until their fingers lace together. He drops forward, pinning Reno’s arm to the bed, the other hand heavy on Reno’s chest.

“Would you like to move?” Rufus asks, his hair fallen over his forehead shading the dark light in his eyes. His hand skids up to wrap around the collar hot and sweaty against Reno’s throat. “Do you want to fuck me, Reno?” 

Reno’s heart stutters. Rufus’s price is clear.

He shakes his hand free and sets both to Rufus’s hips. He almost laughs at the look of glee on Rufus’s face, the way he bites at his bottom lip and can’t control a spreading smile, but Rufus’s grip goes tight at the same time. The collar digs into vulnerable flesh. Rufus’s thumb presses into the hollow of his throat, and it feels suddenly as if there’s a thick lump caught in it.

“Do it,” Rufus says, tenderly cupping Reno’s cheek as the air in his lungs goes stale. “Fuck me as hard as you want.”

If Reno had a thought to spare for finesse, it’s lost when Rufus rises up, grip loosened to give him the space and breath to thrust. He sucks down air as fast as he can, already dizzied by the lack. Unreasonable fear tastes like blood on the back of his tongue. His hips snap up in response, driving him harder, deeper into Rufus’s body. 

Tiny bright spots dance in front of his eyes. He chokes on the next breath Rufus allows, grinds his teeth to fight off the urge to cough, and twists his head to smother it in the sheets when he fails.

“Don’t stop,” Rufus grunts, breath driven out of him by Reno’s rough and ragged fucking. He closes off Reno’s airway bit by bit again carefully, his elbows digging into Reno’s chest to brace against the jolting smack of Reno’s hips. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

It’s a quick and furious blur for Reno, caught in a strange cycle of thrashing beneath Rufus and fucking up into him, always gasping for breath. Sometimes his lungs fill and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes it seems Rufus is sticking to a predictable pattern so he can be ready to take great, gulping breaths. Sometimes his chance comes and goes so fast he doesn’t even notice the sweet relief until his sloppy thrusting evens out again, gaining strength for a few glorious moments.

Rufus’s voice rises, cracks; he comes hard between them, hands and body both clamping down on Reno so roughly his head spins and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, concentrate on fucking Rufus through it while his chest burns. By the time Rufus’s grip goes slack, he’s shaking too hard to keep his feet braced so he gathers Rufus close instead, ruts into him artlessly until he comes, pulse pounding in his skull.

In the aftermath, Rufus sprawled out heavily on top of him, mouth wet and open and hot against his aching throat, his thoughts are sluggish, his body weak. The fine, uncontrollable trembling spreading from his hands to his arms, his chest into his guts, should bug him. It only makes him laugh, coarse and stuttering. 

Rufus levers up to watch him, touching his face with that same gentle wonder, and Reno rolls them halfway over to bury his face in Rufus’s damp chest, his laughter turning to broken, hiccuping gasps. 

He might pass out for a minute or two. He’s not sure. 

The muted bedroom light hasn’t changed much when next he bothers to look. A little fuzzy around the edges, maybe. Weirdly distant and close at the same time like a fogbank pushing at the shore. 

“You did well,” Rufus says, and Reno tilts his head back to peer blearily upwards. “How is your throat?” 

“Hurts.”

“Would you like something for it?”

The satisfaction radiating from Rufus is a lot like being submerged in a warm bath, pressing heavily against his skin at the same time as he’s utterly weightless, drifting. He doesn’t feel the weight against his neck until he thinks about the collar. Though it’s long gone, Rufus strokes along the edge of where it lay.

“Nah,” Reno croaks. His pulse beats steadily in the heat of fresh bruises soothed by a cool, covetous touch. “M’good.”

* * *

End


End file.
